


Stop and Smell the Cigarette Smoke

by templarsandhoes



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templarsandhoes/pseuds/templarsandhoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon forces Julienne into a day and a half off in Goodneighbor, much to her dismay. Damn him for being so convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning on writing fluff, which turned out longer than expected. Also it turned into sin.

“You know I like long, lazy, dull days, right?” Deacon called out as he and Julienne accidentally stumbled into a few Super Mutants. She smiled, shook her head, and took out her gun. She was about to say something back, but she was interrupted by the beeping of a Suicider’s timer.

“Shit,” she said quickly. They took out the group quickly, both of them barely taking any damage. Deacon wasn’t particularly pleased, however, at how close that Suicider came to her. He walked over to her while she placed ammo she lifted from their fallen enemies into her pocket.

“I’m serious about what I said before. Dull, quiet. We should have more days like that,” he said.

“Seriously, Deac? Lazy isn’t in my vocabulary,” she said.

“I’m fully aware of that,” he responded, flatly. She was always the first one awake, always the last one to go to bed. Her work ethic put some synths at HQ to shame. “But lazy is most definitely in mine. Come on, we’re getting a room at the Rexford.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice equal parts confusion and frustration. There was always something to be done back at Sanctuary. Or at The Castle. Or even at Railroad HQ. She didn’t want to have a “lazy” day, didn’t want to not be busy.

“Because I feel like spoiling you,” he said, a smug grin appearing on his face. She rolled her eyes, and he walked in front of her, cradling her face. “Julienne, you need a break. But more importantly, my knees are killin' me. And we’re going to stay in that shitty room all night, no distractions.” She took a deep breath; he was right, but she would never admit it.

“Alright, fine. But we’re heading out first thing in the morning,” she said to him.

“No deal.”

“Deacon…” she whined.

“All night, and all day tomorrow,” he said, quickly placing a kiss on her forehead. He had a feeling she would need persuading, and a lot of it. _Kisses wouldn’t hurt_ , he thought. He held her waist, mostly because she would try and storm off.

“No, that’s too long. We can’t take an entire day off,” she protested.

“Sure we can, Jules. Besides, if anyone gives you hell for it, you can blame me,” he said, which caused her to pause. She looked up at him, her eyes skeptical.

“I can blame you?” She asked, and he smiled. He knew that would get her to agree.

“Promise. I’ll even come up with a great excuse as to why I made you stay in a hotel room all day,” he said. She looked down, sighing as she bit her lip. She looked back up at him after a few seconds.

“You should tell everyone a different story, and see if they talk about it,” she suggested, a small smile growing through her sentence. He laughed, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I love the way you think, Sugar,” he said before placing a kiss on her lips.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” she said, forcing herself out of his grip. She turned on the Pip Boy on her wrist, trying to remember how to get to Goodneighbor from here. He practically skipped the entire way there.

 

Deacon went up to the desk, and paid for a room for two nights. Julienne stood next to him, fidgeting as he made the arrangements with Clair. Maybe she really did need a day off. “Thanks, Clair. Really appreciate it,” he said, charming as ever. He pulled on her hand gently and walked her up the stairs to their home for the next day and half.

“Wow. Twenty whole caps, Deacon. You really are spoiling me,” she said quietly.

“Wait until you see the room,” he said, his tone flat. They both knew the room would be, well, awful. But Deacon was right, a day away from any and all distractions was seeming better and better. Up the second flight of stairs, they turned down the hall and found their room. He opened the door for her, pushing it in and letting her walk in first. “Beautiful women saving the Commonweatlth first,” he said as she walked in. She couldn’t help but giggle, and he smiled at the noise. They put down all of their stuff, trying to make their many weapons and other various items somewhat organized in the tiny room.

“Alright, since there is nothing on the agenda for tomorrow, I think we should get really drunk tonight,” she said. Deacon spun around, looking at her, in disbelief. It wasn’t like her to suggest getting drunk. She drank, sure. She started working with the Railroad almost nine months ago, they had been together now for just about three months, yet he had never seen her get drunk. The possibility of seeing it tonight was both thrilling and terrifying.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, as if she surprised herself with her answer. “Let’s get really drunk.”

“I get real touchy when I’m drunk, just so you know,” he said, sitting down on the couch.

“More so than usual?” she asked, eyebrows raised at him. He laughed, patting the spot next to him. She walked towards the couch, and Deacon’s eyes fell to her hips.

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you,” he said as she sat down. She rolled her eyes, leaning against him. He grinned as he pulled her close and leaned back against the arm of the couch. She turned over, resting her chin on his chest. He tucked a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“So… I was right, huh?”

“Shut up, Deacon,” she said quietly, but through a smile.

“I’ll take that as a, ‘ _yes you’re right and I should have never doubted you’_ ,” he said. She glared at him, her smile still present. He smiled back, and she reached up and took off his sunglasses.

“Not in your wildest dreams, _Sugar_ ,” she teased. She brought her lips to his, then slid between him and the back of the couch. He took in a deep breath as she got settled, and they both soon drifted off into a much needed nap.


	2. Chapter 2

Julienne woke up two hours later, Deacon snoring loudly next to her. She yawned, trying not to stir too much and wake him up. She looked at him, always wanting to take in the sight of him without sunglasses. This wasn’t like her, none of this was. The guns, the violence, falling in love with someone after knowing them for just a few months, especially when they are lying to her constantly. She liked organization, consistency, normal. But this? Nothing has been normal since she got out of the Vault. The people she met all helped her become a new person, but there was something about Deacon that kept her from completely altering her pre-war personality. When they traveled, she helped keep his disguises organized, something she never thought she would have to do for someone. She made sure that everything was going to plan, making checklists, keeping him on task. And he made her laugh while she did it all. She sighed, resting her head on his chest. Her friends from before would have died to see Julienne now; in a sketchy hotel, sleeping with a spy. She smiled at the thought, finally starting to realize that change didn’t have to be bad.

Deacon stopped snoring, and his eyes fluttered open. He instinctively pulled her close, making sure she was still there. She gladly accepted the affection. “Mmmm. Smell that?” he asked. She cocked her head at him, hoping he didn’t fart. “The beautiful smell of old, stale cigarettes. Are you getting that hint of spilled whiskey? No, no. Spilled brandy.” 

“The epitome of luxury, babe,” she answered, laughs littering her answer. He smiled, his crooked grin making her heart flutter. 

“Alright,  _ Operation: Julienne’s Luxurious Day Off _ is in motion. I’m gonna go downstairs and borrow the kitchen. You, you gorgeous woman, are getting Blamco-by-Deacon for dinner,” he said, carefully sitting the two of them up. 

“Really switchin’ it up, Deacon,” she said, flatly. She really didn’t mind though, especially since Deacon was the one cooking. 

“Is that ungratefulness I am hearing?” he asked, his pitch rising as he finished. She opened her mouth quickly, scrambling to tell him no, how much she appreciated it, but he laughed and stopped her before she began. “Joking, I’m joking. If I had planned this out more, you bet Chef Deacon would have made an appearance,” he said, putting on his sneakers. 

“Chef Deacon, huh?” she asked. If he really could cook, well. She bit her lip. 

“Hell yeah. The things I can do with a fresh brahmin steak,” he said lowly. He wasn’t sure why being able to cook was such a turn-on for some people, but he milked it for all it was worth. He grabbed his sunglasses and walked to the couch. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said while pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“I can help-” 

“Charmer, I can’t do a lot of things. I can’t juggle, and trust me, I’ve tried. Can’t tie some of those really cool knots. But, I know for a fact, that I can make Blamco Mac and Cheese without messing it up.” He put on his sunglasses. “Relax. If you even know what that means,” he added under his breath. 

“I heard that,” she warned. He looked at her, apprehensively. She grinned at him, and he matched it. He took a big step through the door frame, and she sighed against the back of the couch. Her smile grew uncontrollably, her cheeks grew red. She had to cover her face, had to quiet her giggling. She stood up from the couch and walked towards the desk. Deacon had told her to relax, and she knew just how to do it. 

Twenty minutes later, Deacon padded up the stairs with two large bowls filled with mac and cheese. He approached the door, suddenly aware that he was out of hands to open it. He used his elbow to knock, calling out, “Room service!” He heard her stand up from the chair, her bare feet quickly moving across the wood floor. She opened the door, a wide smile on her face as she stared at the bowls. “One day, you’ll look at me like you’re looking at this mac and cheese,” he said, while motioning the more-full bowl towards her. She gladly accepted it and walked back over to the desk. He chuckled as he closed the door. 

Julienne was just about ready to dig in when she realized she couldn’t. “Do you have a fork?” she asked. Deacon appeared behind her in seconds, placing the metal fork down on the desk. 

“I do. Even though you’re supposed to eat mac and cheese with a spoon…” he said, his voice trailing off. She brought her legs up to her chest, forming a ball of limbs in the chair. 

“Promise not to make fun of me?” she asked, turning the chair to face him while he sat on the couch. 

“Have I ever made fun of you?” She glared at him. “Don’t answer that. But, I promise I won’t make fun of you this time,” he said, kicking off his shoes. She sighed, and looked down at the bowl in her hand. She fussed with her food for a few seconds before lifting her fork up to show him a noodle on each prong. 

“This was the only way I would eat mac and cheese as a kid, and the habit stuck,” she admitted. Deacon looked at her, his heart skipping a beat. 

“That... is the most... adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his smile growing bigger and bigger. She looked away, her cheeks growing more red by the second. “Jules, seriously. It's so cute. Let me try,” he said, putting his bowl down on the end table. He quickly stood up, closing the gap between them. She giggled as his long strides quickly brought him to her, then ate the macaroni off the fork. She handed him the now-bare fork, and he surveyed her bowl. 

“The trick is you have to go from one side to the other. Can’t put a noodle on the middle ones first,” she instructed. Deacon noticed her voice getting more child-like, noticed he wasn’t able to wipe the smile off her face. He successfully placed a noodle on each prong, just as she showed him. She watched him as he put the fork in his mouth, smiled when he let out a hum of approval. 

“You won’t catch me eating my Blamco like that anytime soon, but I can see the appeal,” he said, handing the fork back to her. She gently elbowed him as he walked away. He sat back down on the couch, never taking his eyes off her while she ate. She wrote stuff down on that folder of hers, the folder that she wrote schedules on, wrote lists of what she needs; it was her life. She had to start a new one recently, as the last one had no more room. He admired her organization tremendously. Deacon knew that it was part of the reason she was so efficient in her efforts to clean up the Commonwealth. He also knew that he wasn’t nearly this organized, and he often wondered if he would be any better at his job if he cleaned off his desk once in awhile. He shook his head, shoveling a spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth.  _ You’re falling in love with the way she organizes? What next, the way she puts on her shoes _ , he thought. She kept surprising him, and he kept surprising himself. He was pulled away from his thoughts by her voice. 

“What time did you want to head to the Third Rail?” she asked, not looking up from the desk. He ate another spoonful, an idea coming into his head. 

“What did I say before?” 

“What?” she asked, finally putting down her pen and looking over at him. 

“No distractions,” he drew out. She rolled her eyes, and focused her attention on her mac and cheese. “I’ll go get some bottles of… uh, something. And we can stay in here and I can have you all to myself,” he said. 

“I hate it when you have better ideas than me,” she said under her breath. He cackled. 

“Get used to it, sweetheart. Besides, I don't think Magnolia would like it if she’s not the most beautiful woman in there,” he said, that damn lopsided grin making another appearance. 

“Bullshit,” she muttered, shoving mac and cheese in her mouth. 

“Come on! The one time I tell the truth,” he exclaimed. She looked back at him, although she quickly found herself too embarrassed to keep the eye contact. 

“Fine,” she barely managed to say. “But only because you’re cute.” 

“The cutest.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Deacon walked from the hotel to the bar, a walk that would only take a minute. But he walked as slowly as he could. He cursed himself for setting himself up for a big, romantic night in. Should he get expensive wine? Or would it be better to get a nice bottle of whiskey, since it was both of their favorite? _This is why you don’t fall in love_ , he thought.  _Now I have to actually think about what alcohol to get her_. His heart rate increased as he got closer to the subway station-turned-bar. He took a deep breath as he opened the door, trying to think of anything else. He was in a blur as he walked past Ham, down the stairs, and towards the bar. He hoped no one would notice the blush growing on his cheeks as he approached White Chapel Charlie.  

Julienne sat in the hotel room, alone once again. She happily planned out the next few days, everything they needed to do, people to talk to, things to find. Her pen scratched the folder, her neat handwriting covering the surface. She put the pen down, stretching her fingers that were starting to cramp. As she shook her left hand out, she realized that this was the longest she’d sat down to plan in months. Everything had to be on-the-go in the Commonwealth. But tonight, she strategically planned out 3 days worth of information, and that made her more than content. She scrolled through her Pip Boy, taking note of all the settlements that were asking for help. She started planning a route that would allow them to also place one of Tinker Tom’s MILA units in the spot he marked when she heard clinking glass bottles, and what she could swear was Deacon’s footsteps.

He looked like an idiot, he was sure of it. Walking around Goodneighbor, a bottle of wine, whiskey and vodka in his arms. He  _did_ promise to spoil her, and he panicked when he had to order. He was able to open the door, and he saw her spinning around in the chair when he walked in the room. Her brown eyes widening in a happy surprise when she saw what he was holding. “Okay, Deac. I know I said we were getting drunk, but I don’t think we need this much,” she said, helping him place the bottles down on the desk.

“What is it they used to say? _A girl’s gotta have options_?”

“That was about makeup or clothes or… men,” she said, picking up the wine and surveying it.

“Well drinks should have been included,” he said, ignoring her flirtatious tone. Barely. He peered over to her, watching her fingers hold the bottle, noticing the ink smudges. “So you have the next ten years planned out, down to the minute?”

“To the second, actually,” she replied, a smirk barely visible.

“Next time, I want to be here when you do that. I need to make sure you schedule time for my afternoon meditations,” he said, scouring their equipment for a corkscrew.

“Meditations?”

“You know… sitting down for a few hours, not doing anything, singing kumbaya. Things like that,” he explained. She rolled her eyes.

“I can write it in…” she started. Deacon peered over at her while he searched her pack. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes focused on the bottles on the desk. “Right after we teach feral ghouls how to love.”

“You’re cute when you’re bullshitting me.” He stood up, walking slowly towards her. She looked up at him as he came to her. His grin seemed so familiar to her, seemed too good to be true. It’s almost as if she’d seen it on someone before, in some other life. Her eyes widened and she gasped as realization set in.

“I finally figured it out!” She dropped her pen, turning her attention to him completely. He lowered his sunglasses a little, peering over them and at her.

“Let me guess, you figured out how Hancock could turn back into a human? Or wait, no. You figured out how many cigarettes Desdemona could smoke in a year?” he asked, picking up the wine bottle. She chuckled as he began to open the bottle.

“No, but now I want to figure it out,” she said.

“What? The Hancock thing or the Desdemona thing?”

“Both. But more importantly, I figured out where I’ve seen your smile before,” she explained. He pulled the cork out with a pop.

“On my face.”

“His name was John. He told me to call him Johnny,” she said, ignoring his statement. One of his eyebrows raised as he poured the wine into their glasses. “If I had my way, I would have married him instead of Nate.”

“And why’s that?” he asked, handing her one of the glasses. She took it, long fingers curling around the glass. They clinked them together, each of them taking a sip. She was about to put the glass back on the desk, when she felt his free hand tugging on hers. She sighed as she stood up and followed him to the couch.

“He was…” she started, and thought about what to say next. They sat down on the couch, her legs curled up towards her chest. He watched as she got comfortable, as she racked her brain on how to explain this Johnny. “He and I sort of… fooled around a little. Before I met Nate. Well, before my parents set me up with Nate.”

“Wait, hold on.”

“Yes, my marriage was arranged. Mostly,” she said. Another sip of wine. His hand inched towards her body, fingers close to her skin. “I mean, it’s not like I hated Nate. And we had fun while… we were married.”

“I don’t think I could marry someone I didn’t love,” he admitted, sighing.

“It was… the safe thing to do.”

“You and your stability,” he said. He knocked back a sip. The wine felt good, especially since the conversation was turning in a way that Deacon was not expecting. She adjusted her legs, scooting closer to him slightly.

“Hey, the world was falling apart. A little stability was more than welcome.”

“Alright, back to the less-handsome, pre-war version of me.”

“Who said less handsome?” she asked, a teasing smile forming on her face.

“You don’t think I’ve seen the way you ogle me? Don’t think I know about what you and Glory talk about behind my back?” he asked, his voice low and gravely. She shuddered, then leaned in towards him.

“Let me just…” she said, her own voice low. Deacon found himself leaning into her, her voice pulling him closer. She gently took off his sunglasses, putting them behind her. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you are more handsome.”

“Don’t you just love it when I’m right,” he said, his nose nearly touching hers.

“No.” Her lips pressed to his. He kissed her back, nearly letting go of the glass. His mind went fuzzy, nothing else in the whole damn Commonwealth was more important than her. She slowed her lips, pulling back slightly. He exhaled loudly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Deac.”

“You’re a cruel, cruel woman, Julienne.” She hummed her approval, a chuckle escaping her lips. She leaned back, drinking her wine slowly. The world looked different without his sunglasses. She looked different. No, better without his sunglasses. Her hair usually looked one solid color, a less than exciting brown, he realized was actually several shades perfectly blended together. Her dark skin was more golden, her eyes brighter. But while she looked better, he felt worse without them. He couldn’t hide behind dark lenses. Wouldn’t be able to hide the adoration in his eyes while he watched her fidget. _You’re not even drunk yet. Stop thinking like this,_ he thought. He took a deep breath. “So what was it like before the war?”

“It was… awful.”

“Again. Cute when you’re bullshitting me.”

“No, I’m serious. I was born into a world that was running out of resources. And then it ran out. My husband had no choice but to fight in a war. I watched the Land of the Free turn into… something terrible. And I thought becoming a lawyer would help, maybe change someone’s life.” She was speaking quickly, but then stopped. A drink from her glass. He put his arm on the back of the couch, fingers dancing along her shoulder. “But instead, I was persuaded to get married, have a kid. ‘Eventually we’ll dust off your law degree’ he would say. But that day never came,” she said, a sigh leaving her lips.

“Alright, dumbest law in existence.”

“Hmmm.” Her smile started to come back as she thought. “Oh. Women can’t be on top during sex.” His eyes opened wide.

“Well, damn.”

“Right? One night while I was at law school-” she cut herself off, cheeks turning pink.

“Don’t stop there!” he exclaimed. She chuckled, then brought the glass to her lips again, knocking a significant amount down. “Tease,” he said, standing up and getting the bottle. He refilled her glass for her, humming and swaying his hips. “Alright, there had to be some sweet moments before the bombs.”

“The food. God, I miss having a stove and an oven and a full pantry that wasn’t fucking canned meat,” she said, exasperated. “I don’t know what to do with this food.”

“And that’s why you keep me around.” He finished his glass, quickly pouring another.

“Definitely the only reason.”

 

They kept drinking and chatting, the wine eventually running dry. They switched to the whiskey, something Julienne shouldn’t have done. Too many sloppy nights in college should have warned her against this, but there was no red flag waving in her brain. She trusted Deacon enough that nothing would go wrong. So she drank more and more, brain getting fuzzy, speech starting to slur. The tension in her shoulders was also gone, her knees didn’t burn. Her cheeks hurt because she kept smiling and laughing. Her skin was on fire, but the fires were being put out by his fingertips. He was right about two things; first, that he got touchy when he was drunk. And second, that she needed this. She felt his eyes on her, so she turned towards him. “What?” she asked, unable to stop the giggle leaving her lips.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” he said, his words slurring slightly. He could clearly handle liquor better than she could.

“You keep saying that I’m cute,” she pointed out.

“You’re right. I should stop.” Another giggle from her.

“What? Afraid my ego is gonna get bigger than yours?”

“Jules, I’m going to have to call you cute, beautiful, perfect, all of the above for about... six years for your ego to get as big as mine.”

“Alright, you can afford to keep calling me cute for the rest of the night, then.” His hands slipped under her shirt, palms running along her hips. He leaned over her, gently guiding her on her back.

“Come here,” he whispered. She sighed as she laid back, her hand bunching up his tshirt. “You’re so cute. So adorable.” His lips pecked her cheek. “Beautiful. Stunning,” he went on, kissing her between each word. His breath was hot on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. “Gorgeous.” A kiss on her neck. “Perfect.”

“Liar,” she said, breathless. He growled against her neck.

“Julienne… not lying,” he said, teeth grazing her skin.

“You have to be. Mm not perfect,” she mumbled.

“You are perfect,” he said, desperately. He stopped his lips, picked up his head slightly. He looked at her, stared into her eyes. Even when she was drunk, her gaze still stopped his heart. “I know I lie about a lot of shit. But…” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb gently running across his stubbly cheek.

“How can you-”

“I told you the worst things about me and you still let me kiss you. That’s pretty damn perfect to me,” he said. Her lips tugged up on one side, and his heart started racing in his chest.

“You only think I’m perfect because you haven’t heard my worst things,” she said. His eyes searched hers, but her expression didn’t change. She still wore that grin, still looked… perfect.

“I look forward to hearing your worst things. That way I can reach a decision on your perfect-ness.”

“Perfection would be the right word.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sugar.” She giggled again, and he smiled as he watched her. She pulled his face towards him, kissing him sloppily. He happily accepted, and kept kissing her. All night long, until she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is awkward... thank you for being patient and sticking around while i procrastinated this.


End file.
